


Crossroads

by titC



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Chloe is a fighter, F/M, Gen, I tried to have plot instead of angst, Lucifer's family, No one dies except bad guys, finding titles is the hardest part, mostly people talk, oops I already used that title before, sex tries to happen, then plot tries to happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 02:16:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7599499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/pseuds/titC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tale of passion - no, not <i>that</i> passion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossroads

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I promised not to kill anyone this time; and let me tell you it was really tough to extrude this one from my brain. Getting bits and pieces to cooperate to form a half-way coherent whole was a challenge, but I've come to the point where tweaking only makes it worse, so... here it is.  
> I'm curious to see what you think!

Having half a chemistry lab collapse on you was never a pleasant experience, but it was even worse having to strip in front of these people. Lucifer was of course shucking away his ruined jacket and trousers with his usual enthusiasm for naked times, but Chloe didn't quite feel the urge. Sure, they had to go through the ( _one_ and only one) decon shower, the people watching her were trained professionals and all the lab workers had already been through and really, she couldn't put it off any longer but –

“Come _on_ , Detective, you don't want to be stuck here all evening, do you?” At her grimace, he added – the bastard – “don't be shy, I've seen you naked before!” He looked around. “These people haven't, but you've got nothing to be ashamed of.”

She felt like strangling him (again). With a big, put-upon sigh she began removing her clothes. She noticed the personnel doing a double-take at seeing his back, then carefully looking away; but Lucifer seemed utterly oblivious. She followed him into the tent, and they were doused with hospital-smelling liquid. Yuck. From the corner of her eye, she could glimpse him unabashedly looking at her; he even winked when he caught her watching. Chloe rolled her eyes and went back to not looking, not thinking about him. She wasn't very good at it. She knew what he looked like.

He would probably make yet another move on her when they'd get out, she'd turn him down yet again, and really sometimes she wondered if she shouldn't just say yes. Would you like to sample the goods, Detective? he'd say. Well, maybe she would, this time.

It had been so long since she'd had any kind of sex, let alone good sex. The last year she'd been with Dan, it had been rare and perfunctory and not really satisfying, and since then – well, nothing, really. No warm skin against hers; no one looking at her like she was the best thing in the world ever; no one desperate to spend as much time near her, touching her as they could; no one who really wanted to spend a night in her bed; no one – no, Trixie and Lucifer didn't count. Damn. She guessed she really did need to do something about it if all she remembered about sex was the cuddling.

When they got out, Maze was there, looking bored as usual and holding out two bags. As Lucifer was doing his thing with the doctors – trilling and peacocking and ignoring their demands for more tests and would you please come to the hospital tomorrow at least and oooh, Mr Morningstar, giggle giggle, he was doing it _again_ – she opened the bag and found clothes. Her clothes. The sneaky little thief smirked at her and looked pointedly at the neon-green jumpsuits the staff was handing them, and well. Chloe shrugged and slipped on the very summery dress Maze had, hem, liberated from her closet, got their phones back from the welcome desk where they'd had to leave them when they'd come to visit the lab and before they got, well, slimed; and then… they were free.

 

“Well, this has been a productive day, hasn't it?” He was smiling, but Chloe thought he might be a bit out of sorts; he still hadn't made any kind of move apart from the earlier wink. Weird. Just when she was starting to get around to the idea, too. She glared at the windshield.

“I guess it has, yes.” One less murderer-by-chemistry on the loose was always a good thing. “Do you have to go right now? We could order in and celebrate.”

“What about your spawn?”

“Azeem is picking her up from school. I can ask him if he can keep an eye on her tonight, she's been pestering me for a playdate with their son.”

“Azeem… he's the pretty one, right?”

Chloe side-eyed him as she parked in front of her house next to Lucifer's convertible. “You think Kim isn't good-looking?”

“Hm. He has no sense of style, really. A shame. Don't know what he's hiding behind his hideous argyle jumpers.”

“Well, I think he's – wait. The door's locked. How did Maze get in, get my clothes, get out and lock the door again?”

“She's good, isn't she.” He looked as smug as a proud dad, really. Yet another thing on which she'd never get any answers, then.

“Stay for dinner? I'll give the neighbors a call.”

“Gladly.” He wiggled his fingers at her, sauntered to his car and extracted something from the tiny trunk as on the phone, Azeem was you-go-girling her, gushing about the gorgeous guy and gorgeous car and don't you worry Chloe, we sure can keep an eye on Trix for you, enjoy the hunk, we'll bring her back tomorrow morning, now go get him.

She could feel her blush spreading to the roots of her hair, and when Lucifer popped back in with a bottle of red wine in his hand – did he always have a stash of emergency classy booze in his car? – he smirked at her and strutted a bit. He couldn't have heard Azeem, could he?

“Worry not about the wine, Detective, I had Maze leave a cooler of nice wines while she got us some clothes. It's just the perfect temperature.”

“I… wasn't even thinking about that, but fine. Great. Okay, where's my corkscrew?”

Wine in hand, they pored over her pile of menus and Chloe pondered the wisdom of her plan. Had she lost her mind? She wasn't blind; he was attractive and he wanted her and she was pretty sure she'd have a pretty good time but… he was also not entirely sane, insisted he was the devil, and never seemed to bed the same person twice – or at least not two different nights. Or days. Whatever. She didn't want to feel like a used tissue afterwards… but why would she? No one had ever complained. And it means he must have condoms somewhere on him, right? And at least whatever happened, she wouldn't get pregnant – she'd just had her IUD checked. He wanted her, she wanted sex and he was like a tall, tall drink of water to her. Was it a bad thing? Did it make her bad somehow? Why would it, really? On the other hand – hand, yes; his hands… she pictured long fingers running over the piano keys, just like she so, so needed to feel on her skin. And his eyes, warm brown and so often on her. And she'd like to ruffle his hair and see what he looked like, all rumpled. It must happen to him, right? No one wakes up looking like that. No one.

She watched him stand up to get his phone, and… fuck it.

She put her glass on the wooden floor, took his and set it next to hers. He raised his eyebrows – so dark and well-defined and gah, even his eyebrows – at her over his shoulder, half-turned away and a faint smile on his face. You go girl, she thought and grabbed his belt and yanked.

He stumbled and caught himself with a hand on the back of the sofa and a knee brushing her thigh, surprised and for once speechless. She could see words trying and failing to take shape on his parted lips, his eyes open wide above her. Chloe kept a hand on his belt and looked up into his darkening pupils. She could feel his hot breath on her cheek, speeding up a little and making her hair flutter against her ear. He was so, so close. Not close enough.

She gave another little tug on his belt, and he didn't resist; just bent a little more. She knew he could have, she'd seen how strong he could be. His eyes darted to her lips, then back up.

“Don't toy with me, Detective,” he finally whispered.

“I'm not,” she said. Lifted her chin a little, brushed his mouth with hers.

“Please,” a murmur.

“Yes,” she told him. Yes.

He was strangely rigid, unmoving; his forearm against her shoulder a bar of steel, the fingers digging into the cushion. She took his other hand in hers, felt it twitch, restless and anxious. Little by little, she turned him entirely towards her, dragged him nearer; she placed his hand on her waist when he finally straddled her, started to open his dark red shirt, kissed him softly. He was oddly careful, keeping most of his weight on his knees and never deepening the kiss; but she was pretty sure it wasn't reluctance on his part. He was definitely keeping very close to her.

“What is it, Lucifer?” He didn't answer; his fingers caught in her slightly tangled hair, gently pushing her head to the side and letting him softly, softly run his lips over her neck. It was barely a caress, a hint of skin and breath. “I thought you'd be more enthusiastic.”

“What do you want, Detective?” His voice was low, so low.

“Chloe. My name is Chloe, and right now I want you.” Her hand skimmed his smooth chest, nudging his shirt over his shoulders. He finally let his arms fall to his sides and she pushed his sleeves down, trapping him a little. He didn't make any move to free himself though, elbows tangled in the silky dark fabric contrasting against his skin. “Do you want me?”

He breathed in sharply in against her shoulder. “You know I do.” A light kiss on her collarbone. “I'm yours to do as you wish.”

“Good.”

It was exhilarating, to have him here like that – towering about her and yet at her mercy, following her lead, waiting for her instructions, his breathing unsteady in her ear. Exhilarating, but slightly unnerving. He was more affected than she'd have imagined, and it was kind of scary. She hadn't known she had so much power over him. She removed his belt and grabbed his hips to feel more of him, the long heat of his body, the hard line of his cock against her belly. He was nosing her hair, a slight moan caught in his throat. She felt so powerful right then – this big, strong man who would run through fire for her – and he had; who would die for her – and he (sort of) had; who was letting her use him.

His thighs must be burning by now, hovering as he was above her lap; and she longed to feel more of him, his weight, his desire. She squirmed and squiggled and twisted until she could lie on the sofa and drag him after her. There was a big ripping sound and she remembered, a bit late, that his arms had been caught in his shirt. It was ruined now, torn apart as he'd broken his fall with a hand on the armrest beside her head. “Oops,” she said. “Two shirts destroyed in one day. I'm sorry.” She couldn't help smiling though, although a bit amazed by his strength. Those shirts were the really good kind.

“I've got plenty.” He dropped what was left of the sleeves to the floor. “You wouldn't look so smug if I'd crushed you.”

“Crushed me, huh.”

“I'm heavier than I look.” He lowered his lips on hers, and she threw a leg over his, keeping him close, closer; holding him tight and her fingers buried in his thick hair. He wasn't going anywhere until she was finished. Maybe several times over.

That was of course when someone pounded on the door.

 

It was his brother, looking grim and slightly disapproving when he caught sight of a half-naked Lucifer.

Chloe tried very hard not to think of her mussed hair and her probably very red lips and what she thought was a bit of stubble burn on her neck, and left them alone to talk while she went upstairs to try not to whine in public out of horrible, terrible frustration. When she heard the front door open and close again, she went back downstairs and found Lucifer sitting at her kitchen table, nursing his glass of wine and looking at nothing.

“What did he want?”

“Oh. Well.” He finally turned to her. “I'm sorry. I won't be able to stay for dinner this evening.”

She stared. “But… what?”

“An urgent matter, can't put it off. Family business, sort of. In the homeland. You know how it is.” He thumped the glass down on the table. “Better get going, then. You can get your little human away from Mr tasteless jumpers and prevent her from getting this terrible sartorial disease.”

“Still, let me get her before you leave. She'd love to say hi to you.” This huge cloud of things left unsaid between them made her feel unsettled, unmoored almost. This moment had escaped her like sand through her fingers and she wanted it back.

He stood to pick his jacket up and slip it on. “Of course.”

She called Azeem, who commiserated and promised they were ready to babysit whenever she needed it (she could _hear_ his grin and his wink, really), and watched Lucifer give one last, forlorn look at the sofa before bracing himself for Trixie-impact.

She barreled into him and squealed and as usual made him generally uncomfortable, before Chloe sent her to her room to drop her school things.

“Lucifer, I…”

He put a finger on her lips. “Don't, Detective. Not now.”

“Soon? You sound worried.”

He fidgeted a bit. “I'm sorry, Detective, I really can't say. I have to leave tomorrow and…”

Trixie ran back from her room to grab Lucifer's middle. “When are you coming back? Where are you going? Can we come with you?” She was clutching his jacket and speaking a mile a minute, and he still looked horribly awkward whenever she did that. Chloe always felt torn between snickering at him and indignation he'd react like that to her daughter.

“I don't know, child. It'll be very cold though, and I'm not sure your mother would like to see you turned into an icicle.”

Chloe goggled at him a bit. When Trixie had disappeared back into her room without a word, she narrowed her eyes and asked, “What is it really, Lucifer? You don't even seem surprised to have to leave. What is it you're not telling me? You can't have no idea at all of how long you'll be away. Will you tell me when you know you're back, at least?”

“Well I – ” he was cut short by Trixie cannonballing again into them, clutching a powder blue scarf.

“Here, it's for you, she said brandishing it. “My Nana gave it to me but I don't need it here because it's summer and she said she had it blessed so you won't catch a cold when you wear it!”

Lucifer took it gingerly, glancing at Chloe from the corner of his eye.

“That's very sweet, monkey. I'm sure Lucifer is very grateful, right?” Dan's mother was always giving out things that Trixie had no use for, so she nodded encouragingly at him hoping he'd get the message.

“Er, yes, thank you, little human. Very thoughtful.” He looked back up at Chloe, then down at the child. Pasting a lopsided grin on his face, he gave them a jaunty wave and walked back outside to his car with a sing-song, “don't do anything I wouldn't do while I'm away!”, the blue scarf dangling from his hand.

Hah, Chloe mused. Shameless as he was, that didn't mean much. And she had really wanted to do shameless things with him, too.

 

Two weeks later he was back, although she didn't find him pestering her at the precinct, half-sitting on her desk and a glint in his eye as she'd have expected. In fact, she found him one late afternoon on her sofa with Trixie, apparently helping her with homework. Would wonders never cease.

“Miss me, Detective?”

“Well, I suppose I missed your calls, at least.” She frowned for good measure.

“Aw, don't be like that!” He pouted, even.

She tried to ignore his puppy eyes. “So is your family matter solved? You do seem to have a lot of those.”

“Ah, well, it's nothing you should trouble yourself with.”

Her phone chimed as she was hanging her light coat by the door. It was a text from Azeem consisting mostly of winks, thumb-ups, and an offer to keep Trixie for the night. She considered Lucifer, who'd herded Trixie in the kitchen and watched her cut a tomato like a hawk while he uncorked some wine. Same vintage as last time, she saw.

“Why are you wearing gloves?” Something had been scratching at the back of her mind like a cat wanting to get out, and she'd only just put her finger on it. “It's not even that cold _outside_ , Lucifer.” They were a soft, pale color, almost flesh-like.

“Oh, hm, habit? Been in cold weather this fortnight. Look, we'll make a chef out of your spawn pretty soon!”

Trixie had moved on to carefully peeling and cutting an apple, her tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth.

“Admit it, it's just a pretext to have her do all the hard work.” He smiled his rogue little smile at her, and she thought that maybe, maybe she could take Azeem up on his offer. “Are you staying for dinner this time?”

Trixie's knife clattered on the table as she jumped up and down in the chair. “Yes yes yes yes yes!”

Lucifer's smirk dimmed a little, and for the first time since she'd found him lounging in her sitting room she wondered if maybe he wasn't interested anymore. “Ah, my dear Detective. Maybe for dinner, but then I have to go back to Lux. I've been away too long. Perhaps another day.”

“Oh.” She felt her gut clench a bit. “Oh, sure. Another day.” She fired a quick text to Azeem. She hoped he wouldn't commiserate too much, because she wasn't sure she wouldn't explode with frustration if it was pointed out too much.

He didn't take his gloves off during dinner, carefully avoiding touching the food with them. She wasn't sure she'd have noticed if she hadn't paid attention.

After she'd sent Trixie to the bathroom to clean up and get ready for bed, she went outside with him as he lit a cigarette and they watched the night fall. “What did you do, really? No news for two weeks – I was starting to worry.”

He blew smoke in the air. “I'm hard to kill, Detective.”

“In my experience, it's more that you don't stay dead for long. I'd rather not see if it was a one-time thing or not, though.” She rested her elbows on the wooden railing. “And my name is not Detective.”

“I know.” He watched the cigarette burn between his fingers, turning to ash and crumbling into a gray lifeless powder, flying away in the evening breeze. “I'm sorry, I can't…” He twisted a bit towards her and she watched him, hesitating and anxious, maybe, about something. “I wish…”

She covered his wrist with her fingers, and he finally bent enough to kiss her cheek, lingering on her skin. She felt his stubble catch in her hair, and when he stood up again strands of it were bridging the space between them. It was silly and ludicrous and almost cute, she thought. He raised an ungloved hand to his face and gently detached them, careful and almost reverent, a corner of his lips slightly quirked up. It felt strangely more intimate than making out on her couch two weeks ago. More… human, she thought, imperfect and beautiful. Less his usual Lucifer the sex fiend act, more Lucifer the… what exactly? Infuriating partner? Slightly insane friend? Crush? Boyfriend-to-be? Rebound sex guy?

The front door opened on Trixie in her pajamas, and in the light spilling from inside she saw his hand was covered again. Mystery ongoing, then.

“Can you tell me a story before I go to sleep, Lucifer?”

He leaned back against the railing. “I have to leave, little human. Take care of your mother for me, will you?”

She hugged his legs and he looked helplessly at Chloe, and she wished she knew what to feel in that moment – delight and sadness and frustration and a growing unease, as he crinkled his eyes a bit at her before turning away and walking to his car, jiggling his old-fashioned car keys in one hand.

Chloe discovered the next morning he, in fact, had not only sent the baby-sitter away but also goaded Trixie into writing an entirely inappropriate story filled with innuendo that went straight over her daughter's head and would get Chloe a visit from social services if the teacher ever saw it. At least she knew it was really him and not an impostor, she decided. She may have missed him – although he'd never know it, she vowed – but she certainly didn't miss his strange ideas about what is suitable for children and what isn't. Probably. Well, sometimes it was hilarious.

Damn.

 

A few days later, he still hadn't come to the precinct claiming boredom and a need for entertainment in the shape of dead bodies, so she drove to Lux during her lunch break, the car radio turned low – something about that volcano in Antarctica that had just sort of exploded a few weeks ago and that had been spewing lava, ashes and sulphuric gases. Deceptive island? Something like that. The eruption was winding down, the planes were flying again. Good news, she supposed.

As she stepped out of the elevator, Maze appeared from back in the penthouse and stepped in.

“If you're here, he's yours,” she said curtly as the doors closed on her. Huh.

“Lucifer?”

“In here!” he answered. Bathroom, then. What had he been doing in the bathroom with Maze?

Strangely enough, he was wrapped in a (black, of course) fluffy bathrobe and not naked as she'd expected, his hair still damp and curling a little. So that's what he looked like without any product. He looked freshly shaven for once, but she reckoned it wouldn't last. She'd rarely seen him without any stubble or at best five o'clock shadow. She'd thought he worked at keeping the lines of his beard defined and precise; but maybe he didn't. Dan had always struggled with his; his every attempt at cool facial hair falling somewhere between a dying, reddish caterpillar and a squashed, leprous hedgehog. He might sell his soul to the devil for Lucifer's beard genes, Chloe thought, amused.

He smiled at her in the mirror and turned around to lean against the counter, hands in his bathrobe pockets. “What brings you here, my dear Detective? Are you in need of my services once again?”

“Well, I wondered if…” Her eyes fell on the gauze and medical tape on the counter. “Are you hurt?”

He glanced behind him. “Oh no, no, that's nothing. Tell me, is it a new case? Let me get dressed and – ” He started to move to the door as he was talking, but she pushed him back against the tiled shower wall. She could feel his firm chest under her hand, but the spark of want she felt deep in her faded at his wince.

“You're hiding something. What is it?” He tried to get away from her but she didn't ease the pressure on his sternum. “You _are_ hurt, aren't you.” She turned him around and he let her manhandle him, although he didn't look very happy about it. She grasped the collar of his bathrobe and lowered it, revealing more gauze and medical tape on his back, where she knew his scars were. “What…”

He shrugged the robe back on quickly. “It's nothing, just a bit sensitive at times.”

“” _Lucifer_ , why are you lying to me?”

He whirled around, caught her waist and hoisted her on the bathroom counter, between the gauze and bottles of expensive cologne. His arms bracketed her, and for once their eyes were level. She could see anger lurking in there; and that was a first. He'd never been angry at her before, but now he was almost trying to stare her down, it seemed. “ _I am not lying to you._ I wish you would trust me and believe me when I say it is not your concern.”

“I trust you, Lucifer, I do. But I'm worried. That's what friends do: they share things, they worry about each other. and they help each other.” She watched him deflate a bit, his eyes losing their intensity and wandering from her face, his body straightening away from her.

“Is that what we are? Friends?”

She could smell him, his shampoo; she could see his long, dark lashes fluttering a little as his eyes moved. She could see his neck, his collarbone; sharp and pale. “Among other things.” What the hell, she thought, and closed her thighs on his hips, drawing him a bit closer.

He looked up into her eyes then. “Chloe?”

She caught his collar again, but this time she gently dragged him to her, letting one hand cup his nape then bury itself in his hair while she kissed him. She wanted, she wanted him even if he was an infuriating bastard at times. She squirmed a bit on the counter to get even closer to him, to the heat coming from him; and she slid a hand under the fabric of his bathrobe, letting her fingers wander about and caress him. His breath caught when she brushed a nipple. “I like these,” she said as she tugged a little on a curl.

“They're ridiculous,” he mumbled in her neck.

“No they're not, they're… huh.” Chloe took her hand out of his bathrobe and stared at it. It was red with blood, not a lot but visibly fresh. “You're bleeding?” She jerked the lapels open and found a deep cut just under where his heart should be, oozing red. She watched it for a moment, watched the wound slowly fill with fresh blood; and then, after a short while, a drop would glide down his skin until it dried. She looked up at his face, his half-open mouth, his red and swollen lips. He was looking down at it too.

“It's new,” he only said.

“But you don't sound surprised.”

“I've seen it before, on other people.”

“When did you get injured? Who did this?”

“I told you, it's new. It wasn't here this morning.”

“Did Maze stab you?” He sighed and backed a little away from her, but she prevented him from going too far. “Let me clean and dress it, at least.” Slipping down to the floor, she pushed him against the counter as he leaned back on it and let her work. She focused on the task at hand and not his stupid, crazy, unhelpful answers; dabbing some antiseptic on the wound and then covering it. “Does it hurt?” He only shrugged. “Fine, be that way.” She retied the now very loose belt of his robe and straightened the lapels. “There, all better now.”

He quirked a small smile. “Thank you.”

There was a short, awkward silence. “Well. I should get back to work.”

“I'm sorry your lunch break was lunchless, Detective.”

“It happens. I'll call you if there's an interesting case, all right?”

“All right.”

She felt his eyes on him as she left, a little disappointed but mostly unnerved by his mysterious injuries. He'd always managed to hide his hands, too… But she spotted a blue scarf thrown on his leather sofa as she crossed the room the elevator, and so Chloe smiled at her reflection in the mirror all the way down.

 

A month after his return, she still had no answers, only this still-growing feeling of uneasiness. He accompanied her on a couple of cases, but he avoided all physical contact between them. He wouldn't drag her where he wanted her when pointing out something, he'd be careful to step around her rather than brushing past… and she could never corner him alone. Not only was she horribly frustrated now that she'd make up her mind to have sex with him (which was either the best or the worst idea in the history of ever), she was worried too. He kept on wearing gloves – soft, supple leather ones, or fingerless driving gloves when playing the piano – and refused to say why. Chloe was fed up with it. Was he avoiding her? Had he changed his mind? Was there something more serious? He hadn't seemed to have changed his mind that day in his bathroom, at any rate.

On a Sunday morning, after leaving Trixie with the neighbors, she drove to Lux for a chat with Mazikeen. If he was in trouble, she'd know about it. Getting her to trust Chloe was another matter, but worth a shot.

The club was empty, of course; but Maze was still at the bar, polishing a few glasses with a bored expression and chatting with someone on her phone.

“He's not available,” she said.

“I'm here to talk to you.” Maze only raised an eyebrow. “What's _wrong_ with him?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Well I… he's my partner, and something's not right, and I'm worried.”

“Partner, huh.”

“What?”

Maze shrugged. “Not my problem. And you shouldn't be his, either.” She went back to her phone and proceeded to ignore Chloe.

“She's right, Detective.” She jumped at Amenadiel's deep voice. Had he been hiding in the shadows of a closed Lux? “There are larger issues at hand.” He walked closer. “Issues that are not your concern. You should go home.”

“What is happening?” Chloe felt anger bubble up, about to explode out of her if these non-answers went on for much longer. “I am sick of your cryptic statements, your heaven and hell code, all this bullshit. I am an LAPD cop, and if there are people in danger I need to know to act on it. It's my job.” Maze slammed three glasses on the bar and got a bottle of something that looked way to transparent to be water. “Do you ever stop drinking?”

“Why should I?”

“Well, it's… never mind.” Chloe shrugged and took her glass away before Maze started pouring. “No alcohol for me right now, though.”

“Fine.”

“Go upstairs, Detective. My brother's there.” Maze glared at him from behind the rim of her tumbler. “Who knows, maybe she'll have a new perspective.”

Maze only snorted. As Chloe walked to the elevator, she heard her say, “this is stupid; at best she'll be a distraction.” Amenadiel's answer was lost in the sound of the doors closing.

Everything was very quiet in the penthouse. Very quiet, and very empty. She ventured further in, past the piano and the bar and went out on the balcony. The sky was very blue, and the muted sounds of the city were familiar and comforting. Still, she hadn't come up here for the view, and she went to the bedroom. Lucifer was there, sleeping. The sun was shining on his face, but it didn't seem to disturb him. His breathing was slow and regular, deep enough that she could see his back and side moving with it. He was lying on is right flank, legs tangled in the black sheets, his back to her. He still had bandages there, a few bloodstains marring their whiteness here and there. She came closer until she was standing above the bed. The wound she'd seen under his heart was still there, still bandaged and lightly stained too. She let her eyes travel from his face – long eyelashes a stark contrast on his almost too pale skin, mouth half-open – to his arm, his hand curled in front of his face; the other under his pillow. The hand she could see was also half-covered with a stained dressing. He hadn't stirred since she'd come in. As she moved to sit on the mattress he sprang up and she felt a blade on her throat, then suddenly nothing. Metal clanged on the floor.

“I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you.”

“Obviously.” She turned around to see he'd moved to the opposite side of the bed. His back was to the window, and she couldn't read his expression. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

“I wasn't expecting anyone. Maze should have been downstairs and – ”

“She is. Amenadiel suggested I come up.” Chloe bent to pick up the knife and examine it. The handle was shaped like a feather; not one of Maze's then. She put it on the side table. “Do you often sleep with sharp blades in your bed? Isn't it a bit dangerous when you have guests?”

“I haven't had guests in a while, Detective.”

“The bleeding thing might put them off, I imagine.” She gestured at him. “I want answers, Lucifer. What's wrong, really? I want you to stop evading me.”

“I thought you mostly wanted a good shag.” He didn't sound very happy about it, either. “Why are you here? You're horny and you think I'm available whenever you ask, is that it?” Downright bitter, even.

“What? No!” She was starting to feel angry too. “Don't be stupid. You're been avoiding me, you're short-tempered, paler than usual, you act like you're hurt and upset and you're covered in wounds that don't seem to heal.” She threw her hands up. “I am concerned for my friend and partner. And… whatever else you are.”

“A ringing endorsement if there's ever been one.” His tone was softer than his words, though. “You can't do anything about what is happening, anyway.”

“That's what they said downstairs. I'm still in the dark though. Tell me, Lucifer. Please.”

“The powers at play…” He sighed. “I don't want you or your daughter hurt, Detective.” He slid out from under the sheet and walked to stand in front of her. “Look. Look at them.” He was stark naked, but she wasn't paying attention to that. Her eyes widened as she stared at him, the dressings on his hands, his side; and as her gaze traveled down she saw his feet too were bandaged. Her mouth fell open as her eyes went back up to his face. Drops of blood pearled on his forehead, a few trickling down into his eyebrows then his temples, his cheeks. “Oh my – er. Oh. My.”

“Yes.”

She started to move her hand to touch the one just under his heart then stopped, chuckling. “I don't think I need to to believe, really. But the dressings need to be changed.”

He shrugged. “They won't close anyway. But yes, at least because blood stains are a pain to remove.” He wiped the blood from his face. “This one is going to be hard to hide.” She started to grin evilly. “No, no way. No headband, I'm not an 80s tennis player.” He shuddered.

“Shame.” She stood up to and reached up to his hair, tugging at it gently. Maybe we can get some curls to fall over here to hide the worst, though.” He looked so appalled she couldn't help laughing.

He turned his back on her. “I'm having a shower first. Can you remove this one? I can't reach it.”

She carefully lifted a corner of the medical tape, slowly peeling it off and removing the gauze. She gasped when she saw the bloody lacerations on his back, as if he'd just been whipped. They ran over his older scars, blended into each other, and looked very red, the skin slightly raised at the edges and inflamed. “Does it hurt?”

He didn't answer straight away, focused on removing the bandages on his hands. “It's supposed to,” he finally said.

“A shower will seriously sting.”

“I'm used to it by now.”

She put her hand on his arm, just under the shoulder, and rested her forehead just above the torn flesh. He briefly covered her hand with his fingers, leaving a smear of blood when he removed it. She kissed his warm skin just before he walked away. “Call me when you're finished,” she said.

Not knowing what do to as she waited, she washed the blood from her hand and straightened the bed. Habit, she mused. Habit made you do strange things. Picking up a pillow to plump it a bit, she found the blue scarf crumpled in a ball. There were bloodstains on it. When she heard the bathroom door open she left it, carefully folded, on top of the sheets.

He looked tired, she thought. Even the towel wrapped around his waist was drooping, and slightly bloody too. She turned him around to start on his back, trying not to touch it too much. It looked painful, whether he admitted it hurt or not. When he faced her again she saw he'd already done his hands and side. His feet, too.

She nudged him to sit on the lip of the bathtub. “Now, your hair. It's not bleeding too heavily, at least.” She stuck small plasters on his forehead, then started combing and fluffing his curls, adding some scented styling product. “Very cute,” she said. He made a face at her, and she laughed. “There.”

“I look like a bloody poodle,” he said watching his reflection in the mirror.

“Well. You can always wear a hat if it disturbs you this much.”

He huffed, but took her hand and kissed her fingers. “Thank you.”

She smiled. “Now what about some lunch?”

 

He set her to washing and cutting while he got dressed, and when he entered the kitchen he started working his magic.

“Where did you learn to cook like that?” she asked after they'd demolished the spaghetti alla puttanesca.

“In hell. I was bored.”

“Lucifer, the devil thing is even less believable _now_.”

He leaned back into his chair, wineglass in hand. “There's one thing I could do that would make you believe me.”

“Okay. Show me.”

“At best, you'd run away screaming. At worst…” He looked to the window. “Chloe, don't ask me that.”

“Fine. Lucifer…” She hesitated. “Why did you think I only came for sex?”

“You do seem to have changed your mind on the subject.”

“Well, I suppose I have. It's just… it's been such a long time, and you're nice when you want to be, and I'm not blind, and I'm not expecting a romance but – ”

“Wow. I'd be insulted if I were you.” Maze was leaning against the door jamb, arms crossed and looking at Lucifer. “Nice curls.” He growled a little at her. _Like a poodle_ , Chloe remembered. Hah. “And you, Decker. Get out.”

“But I…”

“Out.”

She looked at Lucifer, but he kept silent. He was picking at the medical tape on his hand and avoiding her eyes. “I guess you have things to talk about. I'll call you if something interesting comes up.”

“You do that,” he only answered.

Puzzled, she left the penthouse down to her car, and drove back home. _Traitor_ , Maze had whispered in her ear as she left. She couldn't shake a sense of foreboding, a dark ominous cloud looming at the edge of her sight.

 

She felt a bit groggy, once she'd got back in her house. What had happened? One minute they were talking, the next miss ninja bartender was kicking her out like she was a monster who'd just killed Lucifer's puppy. As she was fighting (and winning, hah) against the coffee machine, there was a knock on her door.

“Kim!”

“Hi, Chloe. Don't worry, Trixie's fine. I've just come for a chat, if it's okay with you.”

“Sure! D'you want some coffee? I'm making some.”

Mugs in hand, they settled outside, on the steps leading down to her small yard behind the house.

“We saw you come back earlier than we hoped. Trixie didn't though, so if you want a bit more peace and quiet we can keep her a bit longer.”

“I feel like I'm imposing.”

“You're not, it's fine.” He sipped some coffee. “Ugh. So the thing about cops and coffee, not a myth?”

She grinned. “Nope.”

He smiled back at her. “So how is it going with the putative boyfriend?”

Chloe almost spewed her coffee into his face. “What?”

“Well, every time it seems you're finally going to snag him, something happens. What was it today?”

She chuckled. “I thought Azeem was the cheerleader.”

“He is.” Kim put his mug down on a step. “But clearly, you don't need cheerleading. You need the voice of reason.”

“No offense, Kim, but maybe you're too reasonable to give me any kind of advice on Lucifer. He's… very much not a man of reason.”

“Maybe.” He picked up his mug again, peering into the dark, thick coffee. “What happened today?”

“I… really don't know, in fact. He was bleeding, I patched him up a bit, we cooked lunch, his bartender arrived and threw me out.”

“You're not telling me everything, are you?” She raised a shoulder. “Who's the bartender? The lady in leather?”

“You've seen her?”

“She tends to lurk about when he's in the area.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Uh. You didn't know.”

“Didn't know what?”

“He comes around sometimes. With leather lady, or with a tall black dude.”

“His brother.”

“So you say.”

“I was surprised too. What do they do?”

“I don't know, really. When I tried to talk to him your pretty boy insulted my trousers, so.”

“You do look like an old-fashioned English professor who lost his way back to Oxford.”

“I _am_ an old-fashioned English professor. And I did study in Oxford.” He grinned, looking very pleased with himself before going serious again. “ Chloe, what happened today, really?”

She sighed. “I think… I think he didn't take it well when I said that yes, I wanted to have sex with him because it's been a while and he's good-looking. Maze didn't like it either.”

“Poor guy. Ouch.”

“Ouch? He's been trying to get into my pants for ages!”

“Well, yeah. He likes you.”

“He likes anything that moves.”

“Yes, well. Maybe you move in a way he particularly likes.” He took her hand. “Look. He's rich, he's handsome, he's willing to bed anyone and yet instead of more man / womanizing he lets you sic Trixie on him again and again. And don't think I don't know you do that on purpose.”

“It's fun to watch him squirm.”

“It _so_ is.” Kim leaned back on his elbows, squinting at the bright blue sky. “What do you want, really? With him?”

“I don't know, to be honest. It started as something easy and simple… I think.”

He snorted. “You want him, but you think you shouldn't – because he tends to go through lovers like tissues and you don't, because you're just divorced, because you think you're too responsible and reasonable and a good girl. Live a little, Chloe Decker.” He bumped her shoulder. “Took me ages to admit to myself I wanted Azeem. He wasn't a proper Korean woman, quiet as a mouse and industrious and what my parents wanted for me. He wasn't what I _thought_ I wanted, something like a bookworm in tweed. Everyday, I think of all the time we've lost because I was a coward. Don't be one.”

She let her head fall on his shoulder. “God, you _are_ a matchmaker… just like Azeem, in fact. To think that all this time you fooled me!” She stood and hauled him up. “I'll think about it. Thanks for the pep talk, Kim.”

“You're welcome. Shall I send the little monster back in a little while?”

“Give me a couple hours, I've got some stuff to do around the house. I'll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Don't worry about it. Hm. Maybe one thing.”

“Yes?”

“Can you convince your man to let me take his car for a drive?” He ran away laughing before she could answer.

Maybe he was right, she thought as she went back inside. Maybe she really, really wanted him. But what about… well, everything else?

 

And maybe he'd decided he'd never see her again, she thought weeks later as she looked at her latest unanswered text on her phone. He never picked up the phone, never texted back, and when she'd gone to Lux she'd found dark-suited thugs blocking every entrance to the higher floors and no sign of Lucifer, Maze or Amenadiel. She had apparently been the insensitive one this time, and she wished Maze hadn't interrupted their conversation. Hopefully she'd see him again soon – her uneasiness about his situation hadn't abated.

When her doorbell rang that Sunday, she was expecting her mother; it was a bit early for lunch but let it never be said that Penelope Decker wasn't full of surprises, even ones such as being early. But it was a man she didn't know, with dark hair, dark eyes, olive skin and a short, slightly scruffy beard. He smiled brightly at her.

"Hello," he said. "I was wondering if I could borrow some things my brother has left here with you?"

"Your brother? Azeem?" He did look a bit like him, after all.

"Oh, no! Sorry. I'm Josh. Lucifer's my brother. He never mentioned me?"

"Er, no. What did he leave around here?"

"Well, he – oh, who's that little girl here?" He squatted and Chloe found herself suddenly facing Azeem's house instead of Josh's face. At a guess, questions about her new visitor would probably arrive before noon.

"Hi! My name's Trixie."

Chloe put a hand on her daughter's shoulder. She didn't know this guy and after Malcolm she'd become more suspicious of people as far as her little monkey was concerned.

"Josh." He raised his arm and they shook hands very seriously. His eyes were a twinkling a bit when he stood up again, though. "My brother left protection stones around your house, probably buried around the yard. Since you shouldn't need them right now and he does, I thought I might see if I could get at least some of them back to him? If you don't mind, of course."

"I… protection stones?"

"Well yes, have you already forgotten that… huh. You didn't know."

"Didn't know what?"

“I thought you two were pretty close. That's what Amenadiel said, anyway.”

“We… were, I guess.” She felt a long conversation coming. “Come in. Would you like some coffee?”

They settled in the kitchen while Trixie started a new drawing on the coffee table, cartoons a background noise that would cover their talk.

Josh was more of a tea guy, but thankfully she still had some old teabags lurking in her cupboard. “Thanks,” he said. Just like Amenadiel, if was hard to believe he was Lucifer's brother. He didn't look like any of them and sounded, well, she wasn't sure. Neither British nor American, at least. “So. I can see from your face that he hasn't told you much, has he.”

“He's told me lots, but sometimes it doesn't make a lot of sense.”

“You know he quit hell a few years ago, though, right?”

“Oh no, I can't believe you're into the same… craziness. It's the one thing you all have in common, I'll give you that, but…” Her voice trailed off when she saw his hand wrapped around his mug as he brought it up for a sip. “What happened to you?”

“You know what happened to me.”

“Don't be stupid; I don't know you! How should I know?”

He showed her the back of his other hand, then parted his messy fringe. “I can undress some more, but I think you get the idea. You're a bit like an old friend of mine, really. Would you like to touch to make sure?”

Her breath stopped for a moment, then started again and she thought she was about to go straight into hyperventilating. “No. No, I don't believe you.” She refused to be fooled. She would not.

“Listen to my tale, at least. You have a part to play, and you need all the cards. Please.”

Chloe kept her eyes on the table, rather than looking at Josh. Seriously, _Josh_. It was a prank, it had to be. So she remained silent and tried to ignore the warmth and kindness he seemed to radiate.

“A very long time ago, Samael – Lucifer – and I were very close. We both loved our father, our siblings… You may have heard about our mother. She wasn't yet what she became afterwards, and we loved her too.” His lips curled up a bit, wistful. “But when we were shown what our father was planning to create, the first stages at least – things started to deteriorate. Sa – Lucifer and I were the most vocal, probably. You humans were to be gifted with both knowledge and freedom to do as you wished, for good or ill; and he resented that. I was unhappy with having to look after you all without being among you to really _know_ you. Again and again, I asked our father to let us live with you as humans, and he kept refusing.” He sighed.

“What happened then?”

“It didn't end well. I begged Lucifer to kill me to provoke father into granting my wish. I thought I'd get saved at the last minute, that father would change his mind when seeing how far I was willing to go. He didn't, although apparently it gave him some ideas for later.” He opened and closed his fist a few times, pensive and almost sad. “My brother relented, after a while. He didn't want to but he did because I asked, because we thought it wouldn't really end in death.” He looked back into her eyes, and she felt a chill go through her. “He killed me out of love and loyalty for me, and it got him exiled and cursed. I… didn't exist for a long time, until at last about two thousand years ago, I was born again. I didn't remember any of this until after I died the second time, of course.”

_Of course_ , she mouthed after him.

He fished the teabag out of his mug and looking around and not seeing anywhere to put it, he closed his fingers over it for a second; and when he opened them again, it had vanished. Huh. Nice sleight of hand. “I was glad to learn he'd escaped hell. I think he needed to get out before his anger and bitterness entirely destroyed the brother I'd known.” He grinned at her. “And I see he's following into my footsteps and living among you too.”

“Have you seen him recently?”

The smile on his face dimmed. “Oh, no. I didn't think he'd take it well – the reminder… I've kept in touch via Amenadiel, though. Not that Sa – not that he knows.”

“Okay. This is like Sunday school on crack, really. Not buying it.” She took a deep breath, willing herself to cling to reason and facts and not those… tales. “Now what about those stones?”

“You're jumping forward, Chloe Decker.”

“Look, I'm waiting for my mother, I've still got to prepare lunch, and… just wrap it up, will you?” She stood up and started getting vegetables out of the fridge. Doing something would help keeping her distance with… this.

“I understand. Well, to keep it short… Let's just say some of his former associates have been making trouble, and he set those stones around your house for your protection, and that the situation is mostly under control and you should be safe now. But Amenadiel told me Lucifer still isn't, and so… here I am.”

“Not safe from what? Last time I saw him, I was more worried about his bleeding all over the place.” She was not calling those wounds what they looked like, she wasn't. It wasn't real, it couldn't be. She found it harder and harder to stay rational, though.

“Bleeding? Amenadiel didn't mention that.”

“He's got wounds on his hands, feet, side, back and forehead, always oozing blood.”

He rolled his eyes. “And yet you still refuse to admit the truth. Three times to my face today, in fact.” He looked thoughtful for a minute, then shrugged. “Ah well, I guess we've always liked the stubborn ones; just look at me, eh.” He stood up – slowly, she had a knife in her hand after all – and put his mug in the sink. “Can I help? I'm good at cooking.”

Okay, so fake J… _him_ , showed up at her house to get magic stones for the devil (who was also his favorite brother because he killed him), and maybe multiply the bread or turn water into wine or something… or she was having the weirdest dream ever. She went to check on Trixie and did a double-take when she saw her daughter had drawn Chloe talking with a man surrounded by a bright yellow halo. “What is that?” she asked. Trixie only looked at her as if she were the silliest mom ever. Kids these days. She should cut down on the cartoons, though.

“To be honest, I really should pay him a visit, but I'm not sure of his reaction. Would you come with me?” he said as she came back into the kitchen.

“He's not really talking to me anymore.”

“Oh, but I'm sure…”

The bell rang again, and his time when she opened the door, it was her mother. Penelope loved Josh from the start and decided he should eat with them, and she kept winking at Chloe and asking him the most embarrassing questions. Thankfully he didn't say anything too strange when questioned about his family. Her mother almost threw them out to “get to know each other better” while she kept Trixie. Both sides were a disaster waiting to happen, but clearly no one was asking for her opinion.

Under the pretense of getting some gardening tools – she'd almost choked when he also mentioned a hammer and nails – for Josh, they circled the house and she watched him quickly dig out a few things from the ground. "Those aren't simple stones, they look like gems!" They must cost a fortune given the way they seemed to glow from the inside. Not cheap knock-offs, for sure.

"Yes, well. Amenadiel told me you were special, so."

"Special, huh." She started her car after a last glance at the house. Hopefully Trixie wouldn't be signed for a part in a TV show when she'd get back. "Okay, where to?"

He checked his phone. "At his flat, apparently."

"Do you have your own car?"

"No, I hitch-hiked to get here. I'm big on sharing and helping each other out." He honest-to-god – well – anyway – he waggled his eyebrows at her. As big a dork as Lucifer, then – although so far his jokes were not revolving around sex. That's something, at least, she decided.

"Okay then. I'll drive you there, but I'm not sure I should go up with you."

"Why?"

"I told you, I don't think we're on speaking terms anymore. Might have said something that… I don't know. It's awkward."

"If he were angry at you, you'd know."

Maybe, she thought. Maybe not.

They didn't talk much on the way to Lux.

Once in the elevator, she felt a bit more anxious. Well, sure, she wasn't meeting the beloved brother who'd killed her for the first time in eons, but hey. At least her story was real.

The doors opened, and they walked into the penthouse. No one was there, but then Josh turned his head to the side then walked quickly to the balcony. He seemed to be following a sound, although she couldn't hear a thing. She tailed behind him, not wanting to ruin whatever scene was about to happen – and, let's be real: she was curious. She remained in the shadows, quiet as a mouse.

So Chloe watched him walk to the balcony and whisper "Hello, Samael," she watched Lucifer stand up and turn around so fast he almost fell, she watched Josh catch him by the shoulders before wrapping his arms around him in the tightest bear hug she'd ever witnessed. Lucifer's eyes were wide open and unseeing, and he looked like he was about to faint; shell-shocked, silent and lost.

"I killed you," he eventually said. "I killed you." He tried to get away but the grip his brother had on him never faltered, and he quickly stopped struggling, letting his head fall forward on a shoulder.

"You did. And I got what I wanted, finally. I'm sorry I didn't come visit earlier."

"When? When did you…"

"You didn't know? Two thousand years ago. It was me, brother." He smiled up at the sky. "Without you, I wouldn't have happened."

This time, Lucifer got out of the embrace to better stare at his brother's face. "I don't believe it," he said. "I don't believe you."

"Of course you do." Josh (could she still think of him as Josh? It felt safer than… that other name, though. Or saner, maybe?) steered him to sit on the couch outside. "Look, look at our hands! Samael, you…"

"Don't call me that. I haven't been… him since I killed you." He edged away from his brother. "You may be the son of god, reborn a man and resurrected; but I am the devil, and – "

"Stop it. We are both the sons of god, and you know it. We are both part of him, just like all living things. We both had to play tough parts in his plan, and we didn't shy away from it. You've always been willing to do the hard things, when it counted."

"And you've always had a death wish." For the first time, she saw the hint of a smile on Lucifer's face.

"Ah, Sa – Lucifer, if you insist on that name – that's not quite how I'd call it. And look at you here. Amenadiel has told me a few interesting things about your last few years. And I can see you're following my lead," he added as he ran his fingers over his brother's palms. "How long have you had those?"

"Someone's got a big mouth." He snatched his hands back. "And, a few months. Dad must really hate me."

"Don't be silly. Of course he doesn't. You need help, brother. Help, and hope. He has not forsaken you. You're the only one who has, Samael.” He ignored Lucifer's frown. “Here, I got back those for you." He got the gems out and gave them to Lucifer.

"Where did you get them?"

"From where they're not needed anymore. Amenadiel said the demons still after you have stopped lurking around her house a while ago and have been more or less quiet this last week."

"They're preparing something."

"Probably, and you don't look like you're at your best. But now I'm here, back at your side. You're not alone."

"You shouldn't be. I stabbed you to death. My hands were covered with your blood, and I felt your last breath, and I…" his voice broke.

"I asked you to. There's nothing to forgive, so I won't. I should be the one apologizing; because you did what I asked you were banished. But I think…"

"Don't tell me you think it's all part of his plan."

"Well, I do."

"Ever the optimist. Remember how it turned out when no one came to save you from me?” He rubbed his hand over his face, as if to erase what couldn't be erased. “I need a drink, I think. Several. Do you?"

That was when the earth started shaking, and went on shaking for long minutes.

"Bloody hell, they're attacking here! I'd hoped for more time, and _not_ in the city!" Lucifer ran back into the penthouse and ended face to face with Chloe. She could see his face more closely; his paleness, the purple under his eyes, his longer hair, his beard thicker than she'd ever seen.

"Hello, Lucifer."

He gaped for a few moments while the building vibrated around them. "You can't be here, Detective." He turned to Amenadiel who'd just walked in form the balcony – how had he even gotten here? "Get her away from here."

"But – " she said.

"Get her away from _me_!"

"What the hell?"

Amenadiel looked at her. "He's right. They're after him, not you. You… are a liability."

"It's a quake, not the apocalypse."

“It's, well.” Josh looked a bit embarrassed. “I shouldn't have asked you to come, I guess.”

The shaking finally stopped, but it was only to let about twenty… things jump over the balcony railing to come into the flat. They were holding another one between them, looking half-dead and bleeding, face half-burned away. Amenadiel started moving but Lucifer blocked him.

“Release her,” he said.

The things only screeched at him, until one of them stepped forward. “You have renounced your throne. You do not command us anymore.”

Another joined the first. “You are less than what you were. You are not our lord.” A kick to their prisoner's ribs.

Lucifer's nostrils flared. “Do not provoke me.”

“Or what?”

“Or, you won't only face him, but us three.” Josh was looking much less mild that he had until then. About to clean his brother's house and rid it of unwanted parasites. Must be a habit with him, she thought.

When her eyes went back to Lucifer, though… His eyes had turned red, and his clothes were… burning away from him? Josh raised an eyebrow but went with it, and Amenadiel looked unsurprised. He also looked _winged;_ gray, razor-sharp feathers pointing straight at the – okay, demons, right, fine, she'd admit it. She was going to have such a melt-down after all this; but not now. What could she do? She didn't have her gun with her, though… her eyes fell on the bar. Hello, firebombs – well, maybe Lucifer would be unhappy if she set fire to his penthouse, but when needs must…

No one seemed to be paying attention to her, so she crept towards the Wall of Booze while the high and mighty were posturing at each other. She spared a glance at their captive and – oh my god, it was Maze! Chloe froze for an instant as their eyes met. Let's not keep staring at each other, Chloe thought; let's not draw attention to us. Amenadiel had been more or less herding her towards the elevator before those _things_ arrived, and hopefully they hadn't really seen her, or maybe thought she was no danger. Down on the floor behind the bar, she looked around and spotted a few napkins, and she'd seen a lighter on the countertop – it was just a matter of reaching up and – there. She could hear a few growls, solid thumps followed by gasps or quickly cut-off moans. The smell of sulfur mixed with something else – blood, she thought. Iron.

She peeked from the side of the bar and saw Amenadiel wielding a feather-like knife while fighting with some demons. Lucifer had turned into a burned-looking, bleeding figure; snarling and grabbing another demon who'd walked too close by the neck before throwing it over the balcony railing. She palmed a bottle, lighter in her other hand. Would he be hurt by the fire? He'd been, all those months ago in the restaurant. What else could she do? She looked around herself again.

A low growl made her check what was happening – a demon had a knife under Maze's throat, and Amenadiel took a step back, visibly torn about what to do. Josh caught his wrist and hung tightly to prevent him from attacking. And meanwhile… meanwhile, Lucifer was looking like wrath itself, but although Maze was hissing "kill them, kill them!" he wasn't attacking. They didn't dare put her in more danger.

Decision made, Chloe threw her first firebomb on the two behind Maze. In their surprise, they must have lessened their grip and Maze got an out (and a kick in); but the fire didn't affect them. Damn. Amenadiel grabbed Maze and quickly checked her for less visible injuries while Lucifer started fighting in earnest and Josh jumped over the bar. "They're going to come after you now." He made a gesture over the bottles nearest her position. "There. Just make sure these don't go near Mazikeen."

"No need to light them?"

"Nope." He took one and threw it at the demon closest the huge window; it seemed to… froth? and shriek and in a few moments, it was a pile of slime.

"Nice," she said. "Will it hurt Lucifer?"

"No, only Maze – and then again, I'm not even sure. She's been earth-side for a while," he said lobbing another bottle. This time, the demon he aimed for dodged it.

When Chloe looked again, though… the remaining demons had attacked Lucifer en masse, and he was clearly losing ground. Amenadiel was trying to keep Maze, sitting against the wall and not collapsing out of sheer will, behind him while they threw knives from their position. Did he walk around with blades hidden in his… wings? Anyway, he didn't dare leave her, apparently. She readied another bottle of, what was it? Blessed tequila, what a shame – and was about to hurl it when Lucifer disappeared under his assailants.

No. No way.

She grabbed another bottle and ran to them, smashing the glass over their heads and arms and legs and watching them kind of… melt, she guessed. But it was not enough , and now there were half-liquefied demons still trying to smash Lucifer into the floor, pound him to a pulp under her eyes with whatever limbs hey still had. One grabbed her ankle but Lucifer's hand shot out of the melee and ripped it away. He started to sit up, crumpled a bit, and started again – he fell down and fought up again three times, until Josh poured more holy liquor over them all, and the demons finally dissolved into a gooey, putrid mush all over their feet.

"It did take your blessing to finish them," Amenadiel murmured.

Maze was standing up, but only because she was between him and the wall. "How is he?" Chloe looked down at Lucifer. He was… not well. She felt her gut clench a bit. He was still very red, but from blood. There were huge gashes on his arms and torso. "You idiots." She turned to Chloe. "If you hadn't been here, this wouldn't have happened."

'"What?" Chloe knelt beside him. She didn't know where to start. Josh handed her some napkins and she tried to put pressure on a few wounds. "Stop trying to move, you'll only bleed more."

He ignored her and finally got on his knees with a groan. "I'll live."

"Not when she's here!" Maze, clinging to Amenadiel but still (mostly) upright, glared at them all. She reached into the gray wing next to her.

"No! Don’t. There's… something else first. Where is your child?"

"With my mother. At home, I think."

Lucifer looked at his brothers. "Moloch," he only said.

Amenadiel gently deposited Maze on the bit of sofa that was still more or less sofa-like and ran outside, wings outstretched. Josh bent and drew a cross with his thumbs on their foreheads. "We'll keep them safe for you," he said before fading out.

"What is Moloch?"

"Who. And you don't really want to know."

"Stop keeping me in the dark, Lucifer."

Maze sighed from above them. "A fallen angel." She threw something at Chloe. "He specializes in hurting children."

"What!?" Her eyes fell on the fabric in her hand. Blue fabric. Shrugging, she first wiped the blood from his face. For a minute, she wondered if she wasn't seeing his face on it – her eyes must be playing tricks on her, she thought. She balled it up and pressed it over his side. He grunted when she increased the pressure. “Can you hold it yourself?”

“You're not going there, Detective.” He put his hand over hers, threading their fingers together and not letting her leave. “They'll stop him. I promise.”

Maze slid sideways on what was left of he couch, eyes mostly closed. “If Amenadiel gets a single scratch, I'll kill you,” she mumbled.

“You really hate me, huh.”

“Mmmh.”

“Shit. Lucifer, can you keep the pressure?” He let her remove her hand from his side and waved her off, and she half-ran to the bathroom. She found plenty of bandage rolls, some mild painkillers – the kind you gave hungover people, really – and disinfectant, not much more. Mostly stuff you'd keep around for guests who'd cut themselves with knives when cutting limes for cocktails or perhaps when you had bleeding, _bloody_ stigmata. Hah. Chloe brought it all back to the sitting room, dumped it on the floor and went to the kitchen to get water bottles. She stomped on the demon goo on the way. They had better stay down. She first poured herself a glass of water and sent a quick text to her mother – please tell me you're okay, please…

She felt numb, an automaton doing what she was supposed to. Cleaning a wound, some disinfectant, bandaging, and again. She tried to get Maze to drink some water and managed to make her swallow a few mouthfuls. She wasn't really conscious anymore. Lucifer was watching her work, looking worried and exhausted, still bleeding sluggishly. His hands were shaking a bit – blood loss, she assumed.

“Why does she hate me so much?”

He sighed, handing her gauze and tape and scissors as needed. “She sees you as a threat. She's not wrong.”

“A threat?”

“Around you, I can get hurt, I can die…”

“I make you vulnerable, you said.”

“You do.”

“Why?”

“I don't really know.”

“Huh. Well. Tell me when you really know, then. I'd better start to get used to things not making much sense around you.”

He huffed a little laugh that turned into a hiss. “I'm sorry for dragging you into this.”

She shrugged. Her phone chimed. “Can you look it up for me?”

“It's your mother. They're safe, and – aw, she likes my brothers. Hear that, Maze?”

“We should call – ” the sound of glass crunching made them turn their heads.

“Moloch,” he said. He remained sitting on the floor, his hands under the blue scarf crumpled in his lap. The blood, he couldn't hide.

At least that monster is not with Trixie. It was all she could think about, faced with that behemoth with huge horns protruding from his head. “Your time here has made you weak, Lucifer.”

“Has it.”

Moloch took a few steps nearer Chloe; she edged toward the bar. There must be a few holy blessed vodka bottles left, or at least she hoped so. The beast turned his head in her direction. “Whatever it is you're planning, it won't work on me, little human. I'm not a demon.” Oh god, the teeth – they were long and sharp and it was the grin of a true lord of hell. How could that thing be like Lucifer? “I'll have your child for a snack after I've dealt with you.” She breathed out when he looked away from her, he heart beating like it was trying to escape her chest. Chloe was determined not to show how terrified she was. Her eyes fell on those weird blades Amenadiel and Maze had used earlier, a few feet from her. “I see your pet demon isn't even pretending to challenge me. Your only defense is a human. How quaint.”

“Leave them out of this.”

“Or what? You can't even stand.” Moloch got down on a knee and snapped his long, sharp teeth in Lucifer's face. He was so huge that even so, he was almost seven foot tall. But his attention was all on the (former?) ruler of hell to try and get a rise out of him – not a flinch so far, only mild boredom on his face; she was impressed – and not at all on the insignificant human. She snatched a couple of knives and retreated behind the bar. Maze's eyes slitted open and her lips quirked up a bit, but she fell back into unconsciousness straight away. Moloch looked like an angry bull, shaking his horns as if to gouge Lucifer's eyes out. Palming a knife, she hesitated: throwing it with a high risk of failure, or jumping at him with a high risk of death? Maze's curved blade first, or Amenadiel's feather-shaped one?

“You know,” Lucifer said conversationally, “you shouldn't forget a few things when making such threats. Such as who I am.” He grabbed a horn and held on, almost losing his grip a few times because of his own blood. Still, he mostly stopped Moloch's head from coming any closer to him. The monster was growing even more enraged at this seemingly casual display of strength, though. What was he playing at? The blue scarf was getting darker and darker – his wounds must be bleeding again. No more waiting. She grabbed a knife in each hand and prepared to jump. Whatever happened, she had to believe Trixie was safe. She still had her father, her grandmother. The son, sons, of god were her buddies. She'd be fine.

Now.

Lucifer's eyes widened when he saw her leap; they were full of fear and for a fleeting instant, just before she slammed the knives down into the beast's leathery back, she wondered what he was afraid of if Moloch didn't scare him. She came to a few seconds later, and saw she'd slid down his back and fallen to the floor. Lucifer had grabbed the other horn and was trying to prevent Moloch from turning toward her; she crawled further away as fast as she could. The knives had done some damage; the wounds looked already angry and one was even surrounded by blisters; but it wasn't enough to down him. Moloch roared, and she could only watch with horror as he freed his horns and, quick as a snake, moved to impale Lucifer's stomach.

He never did, though.

Blue fabric tangled in his horns, and Moloch howled as he took a step back; then another. Acrid smoke was raising from his head; blinded by the blue scarf, he stumbled into furniture, roared. The scarf was burning him alive, she realized. The stench was horrible. They watched him fall down like a great tree into the piano, the floor shaking under her feet; then he crumbled into steaming chunks of stinking, twitching flesh. He was still snarling and whimpering and shrieking in a long, agonizing death; until he was reduced to greasy coal dust. Lucifer stared at him, his eyes dark and full of vengeance and satisfaction at the sight – the same look he'd had when he'd squatted next to Malcolm back in the warehouse, watching his fear and pain and death. Chloe felt a shiver run through her.

“It's still a better death than what he inflicted,” Lucifer murmured. “His worshipers killed and burned children alive,” he added at her questioning look.

“That's…”

“Yes.” He tried to get up, but he didn't look very stable. She slipped under his shoulder to help him to the ashes, and he bent to retrieve the scarf. “I think that's why this killed him.”

“Did you expect this to work?”

“Hm? Oh, no. But I think I know why it did. Hindsight… story of my life.” He ran his hand over he once-again pristine fabric. “It was blessed in the name of Mary, protector of children.” He looked back up. “And it's even her color.”

“She glared at him, gripping his elbow a little too hard. “He was about to run you through and _you didn't move away_ , Lucifer.”

His only answer was a half-shrug. Devil or not, she thought – one day, he might very well strangle him. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Of course not, Detective. You're confusing me with my brother.” If actions speak louder than words, she thought, you're lying. But does he even know he's lying? “We should leave.” He steered them to the broken couch where Maze was lying. “I don't think I can carry her.”

“Why? Are you expecting other co-workers?”

“No. He was the last one left with any serious following. But staying here…” He looked around the penthouse, and half-fell, half-sat on the floor, stroking Maze's unmarred cheek.

“I suppose an ambulance is not possible.”

“Even if they didn't ask too many questions, it would be useless. We're not human.” He smiled a little. “You can't leave me, we've been through too much together, haven't we, Maze?”

“She won't.” Josh – she really couldn't use that other, name, even in her mind; it still felt… too much, just too much – was coming in from the balcony, walking over the broken glass without making a sound. Of course he wouldn't, she thought. He ran a hand over Maze's face, then down her side, a soft light following his touch. Chloe blinked, and realized not only the wounds had disappeared, but also those terrible, painful-looking scars on her face had. Her eyelids fluttered and her dark eyes zeroed in on Lucifer who'd been hovering so anxiously over her.

He beamed at her, and Josh winked at Chloe behind his back. They retreated a little to give them a little privacy.

“I'm glad he had a friend all this time.” He ran the toe of his shoe through the piles of ash, picking up dull, cracked gems strewn on the floor on his way. “The others were not very nice. Your daughter and your mother are fine thanks to Mazikeen, and this time we're sure it's over. They're safe.”

She breathed out, relieved of something that had kept eating at her heart since the quake had started. “Thank god. Er.”

He grinned at her. “Don't worry. It's always funny to me.”

“Shouldn't we call Amenadiel?” They both looked at Maze, who looked much better – glaring at Lucifer and berating him for his actions, probably. He looked reassuringly indignant.

“He should be here soon, he's tying a few loose ends at your house.”

“Loose ends?”

“Cleaning demon ash, mostly.” He stretched his arms above his head with a groan. “Well, I do feel like celebratory wine, don't you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Multiply us some bread and we'll make sandwiches, while you're at it.”

“Oh no, I'm only planning on raiding my brother's stash.” He started rummaging behind the bar, and a furious-looking Amenadiel arrived just when he was uncorking a bottle.

“I hope you, demon, have a very good reason for our finding your blood at the Detective's.”

Maze jumped up and punched him in the stomach. “Don't be more of a jerk that you usually are, angel.”

He cracked the biggest smile ever and hugged her and she twitched and huffed and looked, in fact, very pleased. In a grumpy, Maze-y sort of way.

They all shared the wine, Lucifer bemoaning they were wasting a fantastic vintage on Amenadiel and Amenadiel pointing out that at least, it was actual wine and not anyone's blood. Josh looked slightly guilty at that.

“I should go back home,” Chloe said after she'd finished her glass. She got her phone out and wandered further into the penthouse. “Hi,” she said when her mother answered. “Yes, I'm okay, don't worry. I'll be back soon.” Penelope kept talking about gang members and looters checking houses after the strange, long but relatively mild, quake; so at least she wasn't aware of what had actually transpired… she wasn't so sure Trixie wouldn't realize, though. She saw her reflection in the window, hair every which way and dirt on her face and, yes, torn clothes. “I ended up a bit banged up by the quake, just a few bruises, though. Stuff fell on me, nothing serious. It wasn't a really big one, right – yes.” There, perfectly reasonable explanation. “Yeah, soon. Yeah, order whatever you want. See you.”

After the call, she stayed in the kitchen a few more minutes. It hadn't been affected by the fight; a few glasses were broken in he sink, nothing more. It was peaceful, in a way.

When she walked back into the living room, Amenadiel and Maze were apparently about to leave. She thanked them profusely – she didn't want to think about what would have happened to her little girl without them. Quickly, she was left with only Lucifer and his brother. “I'll be leaving soon,” she said. “I'm just going to try and clean up a bit in your bathroom and then I'm off.”

Lucifer waved at her from the floor. “Say hello to your spawn and Penelope, Detective. And,” he hesitated. “I apologize.”

“You don't need to, Lucifer. I'll see you around. Soon,” she added when he looked down. It made him raise his head and smile at her, and she felt warmth in her chest. “And thank you,” she said to Josh. She felt so awkward around him… He nodded at her, and she fled to the bathroom.

She tried to remove most of the ash and blood from her face and hands as she could, and tied her hair so she didn't look like she'd been in a fight with a tornado. Her clothes were ruined, but with some judicious sleeve-rolling and re-fastening she could hide the worst.

She peeked in on the brothers before leaving, her curiosity being what it was. No more threats, deaths or betrayals – it was all she asked. She wasn't sure she could take it. Josh had sat beside Lucifer on the floor and had put a hand around his shoulders, speaking too lowly for her to pick up the words. She hoped he'd heal at least some of his brother's injuries, he really had lost a lot of blood. He hadn't even tried to leave the floor for what seemed like hours.

What happened, though…

Josh's eyes started glowing from within. Lucifer didn't seem to notice, but when his brother ran his hand down over his back and embraced him, kissed his forehead, his still sluggishly bleeding palms… Lucifer's eyes. She'd never seen that expression on them. In the smallest voice, a voice she hardly recognized, he said: “Father?”

Her heart light and heavy at the same time, Chloe tiptoed out of the penthouse. She needed to hug Trixie right now.

 

After what had happened, Chloe enjoyed the everyday normalcy of taking Trixie to school, ignoring her mother's teasing about her “beaus” (Penelope approved of the plural), going to work, buying groceries… It was familiar, comforting. Numbing. After a few days it felt like it had all been a strange dream, unreal and really, really weird. When her mother left the next week though, she thought it was time.

Dan came to pick Trixie up for the weekend, and when he left she looked long and hard at the state of her house – a Penelope-hurricane had left its mark – and of herself – tired, confused, and in need of a good, long soak in the bathtub. A bit of scrubbing first, and then she could relax, replay the events in her mind, have a little freak out if she needed to. She deserved some pampering, she decided. She deserved some me time.

Lucifer rang her doorbell just as she was getting out of the bathroom, a light summer dress wrapped around her and wet hair dripping on her back.

“Hello, Detective.” He looked good, she thought. Rested, healthy – no blood or bandages or gloves in sight. The blue scarf, clean and wrinkle-free, was thrown over his shoulders. “Is this a good time? Doctor Linda told me I should ask.”

“Hi. Yes, it's fine.” What were they supposed to talk about, she wondered. Was there some _Chatting with the devil for Dummies_ she could order on Amazon?

“She said I should give you some space after I nearly got you and the little human killed but then I wanted to see you and I didn't want to wait anymore but then I thought – have you had lunch? Maybe I could take you and Beatrice to lunch?” He peered around her legs, probably expecting Trixie to surprise-hug him. “Of course if – ”

Chloe put a finger on his lips. “You're babbling.” She grabbed his wrist and dragged him inside. “Come in before my neighbors think I'm being rude. And Trixie's with her father this weekend.”

He stared at the sofa, and she could very well imagine what it was reminding him of. Seeing him so well put together, his hair again tamed (she did like the curls, though), his beard only a trimmed shadow also made her remember easier days when she believed he was just a weird, annoying, smug, good-looking guy in a suit and not, well. She wasn't so sure of what he was to her now. He still made her think naughty thoughts, really. But then again, she guessed he was supposed to, being who he was.

“Detective – Chloe,” he amended at her frown. “Chloe…” He caught her fingers when she released his wrist. “I'm sorry, I can't not want… I can't not want. You.”

She took a deep breath. She'd thought about it too, watching her fingers prune into the water and feeling her heart try to expand in her chest when she let him came to her mind. “You do understand this is all very strange to me. I don't think I can really grasp… what you are? How you can want me?” She poured him some coffee at his nod before sitting at the kitchen table.

“You're afraid,” he said to his mug.

“No, not really. I mean, it's true – you've never lied to me, you'd never hurt me or Trixie… “

“But after what happened, you think about what else could happen.”

“What else, who else…” She shrugged. “You are Lucifer, and I'm not blaming you for it.” He looked doubtful. “You are, also, immortal, a giant child at times, and frankly the in-laws… are literally out of this world, I could say.” She snickered. “And to think I moaned about Dan's parents.” He smiled a little amused smile, and she felt lighter. “I take it things are better with your father, at least?”

“Well, I… I'm still, ah, who I am. But…” He was blushing. It was new; and it was charming, really. It suited him. Made him appear more human. She guessed it was what he'd wanted, really – he and his brother. He was trying so hard to be his own man, albeit with added perks. “I think, maybe. We've talked?”

“That's good.” she took his hand and turned it around. There were scars, so faint she wouldn't see them if she had not been looking for them.

“My brother suffered and died as one of you, for all of you; and I…” He looked at his palms. “He said it was for all of us, angels and demons and all he created, he said…” He didn't have the words, maybe; or they had been just for him and not to share. She took his hand between hers, to stop his fidgeting. “He's given me back… things. My wings. My brothers and sisters, a place with them if I so choose. A chance with you, he said. As long as I still rule hell.” He lifted a shoulder, missing nonchalance by a few miles. “He said, it is not a punishment, but I'm the best choice, so.”

“Heaven and hell are yours, then.”

He looked at her, intent. “And earth.”

She hadn't found him attractive at first. She'd thought he was an arrogant jerk, rich and pretty enough he expected everything and everyone would fulfill his desires. Then, she got to know him; she saw what lurked behind his bespoke suits and annoying innuendos. She'd started to like him in spite of his worst traits, she'd started to actually find him attractive – to want him, in spite of her own misgivings. She'd laughed at him when Trixie outmaneuvered him, she'd feared for him when she heard that shot in the warehouse, she'd thought she would have to mourn him. She'd shot him and she'd dressed his wounds; she'd kissed him and watched him sleep. And now… Well, what had changed, really?

She still wanted him, except now she actually _knew_ him. After all – Lucifer was still Lucifer.

Her eyes on his, she walked around the kitchen table to stand in front of him. He put his hand on her waist, then slid it slowly behind her, then lower; his gaze never wavered. Her resolve didn't either, and she caught some of his hair to bend his head backward. I'm going to kiss you so hard you'll forget who you are, she thought, looking down at him. She watched his pupils darken, his lips part as she lowered her head, but she never reached his mouth.

In one movement, he stood up, sending his chair clattering to the floor; and sat her on the table. He was quick enough to rescue the two mugs and set them on the floor, and kneeling at her feet he looked up at her like she was his own personal heaven. His hands moved up her ankles, parted her knees, stroked her thighs; and he kissed her soft pale skin there, scratching her a bit with his beard. She wasn't wearing any underwear, and he clearly approved. Oh, she approved too, she'd had the best idea ever – his lips on hers were fantastic, just right, just there; oh – his tongue, his warm warm tongue… she felt herself clench around his fingers, she felt a rush of wetness down between her thighs… She felt, also, as smug and contented as he looked when he smiled at her. It had been so, so long since someone, anyone, had eaten her out – and no one had done it quite like him.

“I think I really, really needed that,” she sighed as he slithered up her body, kissing her skin along the way. He slipped her light dress over her head and threw it on the chair behind her.

“Happy to oblige,” he mumbled. It was as if he wanted to touch all of her at the same time, leave no inch unkissed; he was everywhere at once – and it seemed like he was a man on a mission. A _clothed_ man on a mission.

“Take these off,” she said tugging on his jacket. He ignored her demand, single-minded in his goal. “Lucifer, we have all the time in the world...”

He lifted his head from her neck, mouth down-turned. “But you don't. It's not enough time, not enough; Chloe…”

“Stop it.” He immediately raised his hands from her body and would have taken a step back if she hadn't locked her ankles in the small of his back and held on his nape with all her might. “I am not going anywhere. No one is going to disturb us for the weekend. We can take our time.”

“But…”

“One day at a time, Lucifer. One hour at a time, even.” He closed his eyes, unhappy. “Yes, I'll die. Maybe tomorrow, maybe in decades.” He tried to escape her, but she made sure he'd have to hurt her to do so. She wouldn't budge. “Maybe we'll just have a short fling, maybe not. But now… now is ours.”

“Wherever you go, if you're willing – I'll follow, I promise you.” She felt more than heard him; his mouth so, so close to her ear; his breath making her skin quiver. She twisted to kiss him properly; a long, deep kiss, rubbing their bodies against the other and not leaving any space between them.

“Let's go to bed then,” she whispered. She wanted comfort, she wanted to unwrap him, she wanted to have him.

He carried her up the stairs as if she weighed nothing – maybe she did, for him – and sat at the foot of her bed, letting her straddle him. She opened his shirt, slowly; she slid it down his arms along with his jacket and dropped it on the floor; she pushed him to lay flat on the mattress and opened his belt, his trousers. She heard his shoes fall to the the wooden boards as she removed his trousers and underwear – the devil was way more proper than she was, apparently.

He was hard, hard and very hot; and when she took him in hand her fingers couldn't close around him. Nice, she thought. Well. Maybe foreplay was overrated – or rather, she'd had enough of it, she decided; and she let herself sink on his cock, slow and delicious.

“Chloe”, he choked.

Hah. She'd surprised him, and felt terribly proud of herself, and really – hm – maybe he could be proud of himself, too. He'd sat back up and was making little movements that were, frankly – “divine,” she said in his ear.

“You're heavenly, then. My own heaven, just for me – ” he pulled her hair to make her bare her throat to his mouth, and she moaned long and deep, almost as deep as he felt in her.

As she was lowering herself again on her knees he flipped them over and she found herself flat on her back, looking up at his smug expression. “You cheat,” she panted between his thrusts.

His smile widened, his rhythm slowed, and then his hands found hers and their fingers tangled and his lips met hers and she was almost sad when, finally, he sped up again.

“I think,” she said afterwards, her breath still short and him still hard in her and deliciously heavy, “I think the weekend might not be enough.” She felt his grin against her cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> Longest fic ever so far.  
> I thought I was _done_ ficcing, but plot bunnies still jump around my skull when the only thing I want is to sit down with what other people have written while I was struggling with this one... Damn.


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